3114 


Vanamee 
An  Episode 


THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


OF 


AN 
EPISODE 


RHYTHMIC 

SALUTATIONS 

BETWEEN 

FRIENDS. 


PHILIP  WHITLOCK 

PRINTING  AND  BOOK-BINDING 

MIDDLETOWN,  N.  Y. 


AN     EPISODE. 

ILLIAM  VANAMEE,  Esq.,  of  Orange  County,  N.  Y., 
while  he  and  Father  Belts,  of  Goshen,  were  visiting 
Virginia  Beach,  bethought  him  of  the  friends  he  had  left  at 
home.  He  naturally  reverted,  especially,  to  two  who  had 
been  recently  engaged  with  himself  and  Father  Betts  in  a  re- 
cent course  of  lectures  before  the  St.  Agnes  Guild,  formed  in 
the  Episcopal  church,  of  which  Rev.  David  Evans  is  Rector. 
In  a  letter  to  the  Rector,  which  playfully  took  form  in  verse, 
he  wishes  that  his  absent  co-lecturers,  Evans  and  Marsh, 
were  there  too,  helping  them  enjoy  the  repose,  the  conviv- 
iality, and  association,  in  the  balmy  sea  air  of  the  Old  Domin- 
ion. Rector  Evans  replied  in  kind.  These  rhyming  epistles 
were  wholly  private;  but  the  "  Middletown  Press," — which 
lets  nothing  escape  it, — typed  them  in  its  columns.  The 
mention  of  Marsh  seemed  to  demand  a  response,  which  he 
gave.  Then  there  was  a  call  for  Father  Betts,  with  which, 
though  ill,  he  briefly  complied. 

Then  others  partook. 

As  all  these  were  printed  in  different  issues  of  the  newspa- 
per, it  was  thought  it  might  be  amusing  to  bring  them  to- 
gether. 


'WILLIAM  VANAMEE,,  Esq. 
Counsellor  at  Law. 


ps 


VANAMEE'S  LETTER  TO 
RECTOR  EVANS. 

&    & 
AT  VIRGINIA.    BEACH. 

My  meeting  here  with  Father  Belts 
Fills  me  with  deep  and  keen  regrets. 
That  Evans,  whom  we  love  so  well, 
Cannot  our  county's  quota  swell. 

Then  could  three  lecturers  in  your  course, 
By  ocean's  roar,  trace  to  their  source 
The  truths  that  each  one  may  have  said 
Of  poets  living  or  long  dead. 

Dear  Marsh,  alone,  would  absent  be  : 
But  as  we  sip  our  evening  tea 
We'd  celebrate  the  splendid  gifts 
With  which  he  blesses  and  uplifts 

All  those  who,  in  his  noble  mind 
Their  highest  inspiration  find  : 
All  those  who  come  within  the  sphere 
Of  his  rare  charm,  his  radiant  cheer — 

How  pleasant  thus,  beside  the  sea, 
Betts,  Evans,  Marsh  and  Van-a-mee, 
(For,  though  I'm  modest,  here  you  see 
The  emphasis  must  fall  on  ME). 


904586 


I  do  but  dream  ;  for  busy  care 
Forbids  that  we  our  joys  should  share  ; 
Sends  me  in  March  to  watch  the  moon 
Cast  silver  track  you'll  see  in  June. 

Up  North  and  Main  and  down  again 
You  traverse  to  and  from  your  den, 
While  Marsh  up  to  your  window  throws 
His  loving  glance  as  past  he  goes. 

He  told  me  once  he  does  not  care 
Whether  that  moment  you  are  there. 
He  takes  the  chance,  and,  there  or  not, 
He  waves  his  hand  toward  the  spot. 

'Tis  Evans  only  could  inspire 
Such  love  as  this,  such  sacred  fire. 
'Tis  Marsh  alone  who  could  bestow 
From  his  rich  store  such  generous  glow. 

What's  youth  or  age  ?  he's  young  as  you 
In  that  which  makes  life's  richest  hue. 
And  yet  again,  you're  old  as  he 
In  wisdom,  love  and  charity. 

So,  blend  your  ways ;  these  lines  I  send 
In  hope  that  you  may  condescend 
To  let  your  thoughts  one  moment  bend 
On  me,  your  true,  your  sincere  fiiend, 

WILLIAM     VANAMEE. 
March  4,  1901. 
To  THE  REV.  DAVID  EVANS. 


THe  Rev.  DAVID  EVANS, 
Rector  of  Grace  Church,  Middleto-wn,  N.  Y. 


RECTOR   EVANS'    REPLY  TO 
VANAMEE. 


If  "  meeting  there  with  Father  Betts 
Fills  you  with  deep  and  keen  regrets," 
That  he  who  pens  this  feebler  line 
Is  doomed  on  Lenten  fare  to  pine 
Afar,  where  northern  blizzards  blow, 
And  lingers  still  belated  snow, 
Nor  can,  alas  !   beside  you  twain 
Meander  by  the  southern  main, 

On  fair  Virginia's  beaches  — 
I  vow  my  vitals  are  all  torn, 
I  look  and  long  and  mope  and  mourn, 
As  long  ago  Earth's  primal  pair 
Cajoled  by  diabolic  snare 

From  Eden's  happy  glades, 
Or  as  where  Babel  rolls  her  stream, 
The  sons  of  Judah  vainly  dream 

Of  Zion's  holy  shades  ; 
So  here,  where  Wallkill's  sluggish  flood 
Churns  up  the  palaeozoic  mud, 
Confined  alas  !  in  durance  harsh, 
Methinks  I'd  die,  were't  not  for  Marsh. 
For  he,  philosopher  and  sage, 
Whose  balanced  soul  no  years  can  age, 

He  resignation  teaches. 
Blest  with  impregnable  repose, 
Serenely  up  the  heights  he  goes, 
Secure  from  every  wind  that  blows  ; 
No  common  cares,  —  deponent  saith  — 
Can  e'er  disturb  his  childlike  faith. 


Scarce  do  the  fleeting  years  impair 

His  mental  force  and  vigour  rare, 

Abate  his  natural  power  or  dim 

The  lustre  of  the  eyes  of  him. 

Time  marks  him  not  with  envious  tooth 

Nor  dulls  his  charm  of  splendid  youth, 

Octogenarian  mighty, 
Who,  like  a  stripling  blithe  and  gay, 
Renews  his  strength  from  day  to  day, 
And  makes  the  man  he  smiles  upon, 
The  better  for  his  benison, 

Full  of  "  elixir  vitoe." 
So  here  we  stay — hie  optimum — 
And  when,  from  southern  climes  ye  come 
Back  to  your  native  halidome, 
You,  to  forensic  triumphs,  he 
Your  providential  vis-a-vis 
To  ladle  out  his  homily 
Close  by  the  Erie  screeching  : 
Let  Betts  return  with  strength  renewed 
With  pristine  energy  endued, 
His  sturdy  frame  compactly  knit, 
His  Irish  fires  all  brightly  lit, 
His  speaking  eyes  twin  lakes  of  wit, 
His  mobile  lips,  in  former  vogue, 
Distilling  rich  Milesian  brogue, 
To  where  a  congregation  leal 
Through  Lenten  hours  devoutly  kneel, 

This  boon  from  Heaven  beseeching. 
And  as  for  thee,  Vanamee  dear, 
Come  quick  and  make  it  summer  here. 

DAVID     EVANS. 
Middletown,  March  8,  1901. 
To  WILLIAM  VANAMEE. 


LUTHER  R.  MARSH, 


RESPONSE   OF   MR.    MARSH. 


To   William    Vanamei  and  Rector  Evans: 

,\   mazed  I  was,  I  must  confess, 
•^    ^     To  read  your  lines  in  last  night's  "  Press. 
Astonished,  more,  was  I  to  see 
That  I  was  made  the  point  «"  appui, 
I  pull  a  veil  down  o'er  my  face, 
That  none  may  there  my  blushes  trace. 
Praise  from  "  Sir  Hubert  "  envied  is, 
But  yours  is  worth  far  more  than  his. 

I  searched  for  orators  —  the  best  ! 

Vanamee's  "  name  led  all  the  rest." 

His  sounding  voice,  his  cadenc'd  speech, 

Bring  grandest  thoughts  within  our  reach. 

Buries  contention,  law  and  strife, 

And  rises  to  a  higher  life  ; 

Leaves  calf-bound  volumes  in  their  lair 

And  finds  relief  in  upper  air. 

How  woo  the  Muse  'mid  labour  spent 

On  Blackstone,  Plowden,  Coke  and  Kent? 

1  have  it,  —  for  'tis  truly  said 

Poets  are  always  born,  not  made. 

And  now,  on  old  Virginia's  soil, 

While  haply  resting  from  his  toil, 

His  pen,  disdaining  legal  phrase, 

Regales  us  with  poetic  lays. 

Vent  must  there  be  for  crowding  thought  : 

It  comes  in  gracious  verse,  unsought. 

And  now  Beloved  Rector  dear, 

How  shall  I  greet  your  words  of  cheer  ? 

Scholar,  Poet,  Preacher,  Sage, 

A  genial  friend  for  every  age  ! 

Who,  breathing  forth  eternal  truth, 

Suits  it  to  age,  to  sex,  to  youth  : 


Takes  from  Religion  all  its  gloom 
And  puts  sweet  worship  in  its  room. 
This,  sure  I  am,  is  the  best  way 
For  pulpiteers  to  preach  and  pray. 

Were  all  of  us,  at  Virgin's  Beach, 

With  Betts,  of  Goshen,  there  to  teach — 

Theolugy,  by  two  sustained. 

And  Law,  by  other  two  maintained, 

While  reminiscences,  galore, 

Passed  merrily  between  us  four. 

"  Predestination  "  held  at  bay 

And  all  "  aforesaids  "  kept  away, 

Methinks  the  jolly  hours  would  fly  ; 

The  "  good  time  coming  bye  and  bye  " 

Would  quite  anticipate  its  date 

And  be  on  hand  as  there  we  sate. 

Goshen,  1  think,  would  win  the  day 

And  Erin's  wit  bestrew  our  way. 

"  The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls  " 

Responded  to  the  minstrel's  calls 

Would  make  the  nymphs  who  heard  the  strain, 

Dream  that  Apollo  lived  again. 

Now,  of  my  partners  I  will  ask, 
When  next  in  sunshine  shall  we  bask  : 
Or, 

"  When  shall  we  four  meet  again, 

In  thunder,  lightning,  or  in  rain?" 

With  thanks  unmeasured  for  your  verse, 

I  oft  its  measures  will  rehearse. 

I  pray  you  plume  your  wings  anew: 

Don't  bashfully  retire  from  view. 

Lay  not  aside  each  golden  pen, 

But  ply  them  still — and  now  Amen  ! 

10  Benton  Avenue,  March  12th,  1901. 


A   LADY   CALLS  FOR  FATHER  BETTS. 


Editors  Press: 

Would  that  each  issue  of  the  "  Press  " 
Did  add  such  touch  to  daily  dress 
As  Friday's  number  saw  ; 
Such  charm,  such  wit,  suchyVw  d'  esrpit 
Contributed  by  savants  three  ; 
The  one  high  in  theology, 

The  others  high  in  law. 

What  other  callings  could  combine 
To  make  their  friendship  so  divine, 

So  well  and  happily  ? 
Law  and  the  prophets,  one  descants; 
Profits  and  Law,  the  two  entrance  ; 
What  better  could  such  state  enhance 

Than  art  of  poesy  ? 

But,  Brother  "  Press,"  'twas  not  quite  fair 
To  furnish  us  a  treat  so  rare 

And  leave  a  lay  still  due. 
Complete,  dear  "Press,"  the  lyric  set, 
From  one  we  long  to  hear,  you  bet. 
No  trio  this,  but  a  quartet  ; 

Pere  Betts,  it's  up  to  you  ! 

SARAH     W.     BULL. 
Stony  Ford,  N.  Y. 


Dr.  R.  OGDEN  DORELMUS. 


DR.  R.  OGDEN  DOREMUS--NEW  YORIVS 

CELEBRATED  CHEMIST—  CHIMES 

IN   WITH  A  SOLITAIRE. 


r 


March  19th,  1901. 
Tlie  Union  League  Club,  New  York. 

•t  warms  the  "  cockles  of  my  heart  " 

To  read  the  lines  of  those  apart 
Terrestrially  —  yet  one  in  thought, 
In  harmony  together  brought. 
What  brilliancy  of  wit  and  brain, 
Ye  genial  sages  still  retain  ! 
MARSH,  EVANS,  BETTS  and  VANAMEE  ! 
A  quartet  rare,  and  full  of  glee  ! 
Long  may  you  live  to  bless  this  sphere, 
To  brighten  life,  and  give  good  cheer. 

R.     OGDEN     DOREMUS. 
To  HON.  LUTHER  R.  MARSH,  MIDDLETOWN,  N.  Y. 


TKe  Rev.  ROBERT  H.  CRAIG, 
Pastor  of  Presbyterian  ChurcH,  Amity,  N.  "Y. 


PASTOR  ROBERT  H.  CRAIG'S 

HIGHLAND  FLING. 

&     & 

THREE  poets,  once  upon  a  time, 
In  happy  mood  began  to  rhyme, 
The  Muses  stood  aghast  a  while, 
But  quickly  changed  to  radiant  smile. 

Their  theme  was  love,  the  love  of  MEN, 
Twas  far  beyond  the  Muses'  ken. 
But  as  the  poets  waxed  in  song, 
And  rhythmic  numbers  tripped  along — 

They  caught  the  strains,  the  theme  to  view 
Unfolded  fast  and  quickly  grew 
Above  the  great  Parnassus  high, 
E'en  Ovid's  odes  far  to  outvie. 

O,  shade  of  Jonathan  !  how  cold 
Thy  love  for  David  seems  when  told, 
Compared  with  theirs,  the  loving  three, 
Whose  hearts  beat  one  in  sympathy. 

They  longed  to  see  each  other's  face, 
To  meet,  salute  with  fond  embrace, 
To  live  in  some  sequestered  spot, 
Where  earth's  ambitions  enter  not. 

To  pass  their  few  remaining  days 
In  fond  affection's  tenderest  ways, 
They  pine  like  doves  in  lonely  state, 
And  mourn  disconsolate  their  fate. 

But  one  bright  morn  with  hearts  aflame, 
To  David,  Luther,  William  came 
Back  to  the  scenes  of  former  days, 
Enraptured  by  their  thrilling  lays . 
Nor  cares  he  now  for  ocean  shore, 
Virginia's  beach  or  southern  lore. 


The  world  soon  heard  with  wondrous  glee 
That  men  could  love  so  faithfully, 
The  story  spread  from  shore  to  shore; 
The  nations  learnt  to  war  no  more. 

DeWet  and  Kitchener  now  came 
To  love,  revere  each  other's  name; 
A  conference  of  peace  was  sought, 
To  heal  the  ills  so  lately  wrought. 

Salisbury  and  DeWitte  embrace, 
McKinley  pats  Fil'pino's  face; 
Then  Li  Hung  Chang,  von  Waldersee, 
For  time  to  come  will  brothers  be. 

The  Teutons,  Slavs  and  and  lively  Japs, 
The  Franks,  the  Britons  and  the  Lapps, 
Vie  in  each  other's  love  to  share. 
Blot  out  the  past — it's  wear  and  tear. 

Alaska's  boundary  is  set ; 
Loubet  hauls  in  his  fishing  net ; 
From  Argentine  to  Mexico 
All  'bide  the  doctrine  of  Monroe. 

The  angels  sang  in  heaven  above, 
Peace  reigned  on  earth,  good  will  and  love, 
The  swords  did  plow  the  valley  fair, 
The  spears  pruned  off  the  briars  there. 

The  human  race  united  stood, 
And  all  were  owned  of  common  blood  ; 
The  Earth,  arrayed  in  Eden  bloom, 
Proved  the  millennium  had  come. 

AMICUS. 
Amity,  N.  Y.,  March  19,  1901. 


The  Rev.  GHORGE  C.  BETTS, 
Rector  St.  James  Church,  Goshen,  N.  Y. 


FATHER   BETTS,  FROM  A  SICFL  BED, 
OBLIGES  SARAH  BULL. 

&•    & 
TO  "THE  THREE." 

rOULD  that  I  could  control  this  brain, 

Or  guide  with  skill  my  pen  ; 
The  one  to  write,  the  other  fain 
To  tell  of  three  good  men. 

Alas  !   too  feeble  here  I  pine 

Beneath  these  weeping  heavens, 
But  cheered  to  know  as  friends  of  mine, 
Vanamee,  Marsh  and  Evans. 

GEORGE  C.   BETTS. 
Goshen,  April  5,  1901 

&r     &• 
TO  THE  OTHERS. 

They  tell  me  "it  is  up  to  you,"  that  I  "must  strike  the  Lyre," 
Two  lawyers  and  a  Dominie  have  braved  the  critic's  fire. 
But  racked  with  pain  and  loss  of  sleep  my  poet-powers  are  nil. 
These  only  have  escaped  me,  just  to  show  I  have  the  will, 
Oh!   "Sally  Bull"  pray  pity  me:  Dear  "Amicus"  forbear; 
I  really  cannot  strike  all  liars,  however  much  I'd  care 
To  show  my  earnest  longing  for  the  welfare  of  the  race, 
By  sending  every  liar  to  his  own  appointed  place. 

G.  C.  B. 


MARSH'S   ANSWER  TO  THE 
POET   AMICUS. 


TT\EAR  brother  bard,  I'm  glad  to  find 
^~*      That  you  are  so  serene  in  mind, 
.  And  that  a  love  'twixt  three  strong  men, 
Evokes  this  tribute  from  your  pen. 
What  would  have  happ'd  had  it  occurred, 
(I  cannot  say,  upon  my  word), 
Had  the  sweet  bonds  of  triune  loves 
Been  twined  around  three  feminine  doves. 
1  know  your  palpitating  heart 
Would  go  pit-pat  in  every  part  ; 
Your  loving  nature  sure  would  melt 
Within  the  limits  of  your  belt. 
Glad  was  I,  too,  to  learn  from  you, 
That  all  the  people  of  every  hue, 
Where'er  they  breathe,  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Have  felt  the  touches  of  our  mirth. 
From  England,  China,  and  Japan, 
From  Siam  to  our  Manhat/aH, 
Your  muse  tells  us  that  heavenly  peace 
Reigns  now  supreme;  —  and  ne'er  will  cease, 
From  Rio  Grande  to  Alaska, 
In  Texas,  Kansas,  and  Nebraska, 
E'en  in  the  Indian  Oklahoma, 
And  thence  across  to  ancient  Roma. 
Aye,  more  than  that  ;  —  our  trifold  love 
Has  reached,  you  say,  the  stars  above  ; 
And  even  the  celestial  choirs 
Applaud  us  on  their  bloomin'  lyres, 
But  how,  in  name  of  common  sense, 


Did  you  find  out  this  news  immense, 

And  gather  from  bright  angels  high 

Such  knowledge  of  the  earth  and  sky  ? 

And  yet,  dear  bard,  your  gentle  chaff 

Provokes  a  charitable  laugh. 

Although  with  sly  hyperbole 

You  do  exaggerate  all  you  see. 

You  peer  through  a  distorting  lens, 

Evolving  pitchforks  out  of  pens. 

You  have  a  gift  quite  Hudibrastic 

Which  makes  all  things  appear  fantastic, 

And  gives  a  humorous  twist  and  touch 

To  all  that  comes  within  your  clutch, 

Should  you  aspire  e'er  to  apply, 

To  be  Reporter  for  the  sky, 

Send  your  petition  in  to  me; 

I'll  have  it  signed  by  all  the  Three. 

Now  then,  good  friend, — and  I  will  swear  it.- 

Your  verses  do  possess  much  merit. 

The  rules  will  not  permit  our  Set 

To  be  enlarged  to  a  quintette  ; 

Yet  nice  'twould  be  to  have  a  poet 

Who,  o'er  all  worlds  could  quickly  go  it. 

But  though  you  cannot  join  us  three, 

Recording  angel  you  shall  be. 

You're  just  the  fellow  we  desire. 

To  keep  our  books;  to  light  the  fire; 

To  sing  our  virtues  in  your  rhymes. 

And  publish  them  through  all  the  climes. 

Rare  'tis  indeed; — look  ere  so  long, — 

To  find  the  attributes  of  song 

United  with  such  knowledge  vast, 

Of  all  the  present  and  the  past. 

You  shall  report,  in  easy  metre, 

Our  doings,  but  with  less  Salt-petre  ; 

Rein  in  your  mother  wit  a  bit; 


Be  not  so  free  in  shedding  it. 

When  you  report  what's  done  within, 

Don't  spread  your  thoughts  so  very  thin  ; 

Nor  try  to  cover  so  much  space. 

For  fear  that  you  may  lose  your  place. 

Twere  well,  perhaps,  in  your  next  hymn. 

To  seek  some  other  pseudonym  ; 

The  one  you  have  might  raise  a  question, 

And  start,  with  some,  a  queer  suggestion  ; 

FOR 

Put,  interrogatively,  thus — 
The  name  you  use — "Am-I-(a)Cuss"? — * 
Might  well  provoke  responsive  "Yes," 
As  some  might  think,  and  some  might  guess, 
I  give  these  hints  with  best  intent  ; 
Receive  them,  please,  as  they  are  meant, 
And  should  you  call  some  time  on  me. 
We'll  smoke  the  pipe  of  "Amity," 
Not  for  form's  sake  merely, 
I  sign  myself,  sincerely, 
Yours, 

*Amicus  LUTHER  R.  MARSH 

Middletown,  March  30,  1901. 


AMICUS  REPLIES  TO    MARSH. 
j&     j& 

YOUR  offer's  a  surprise  to  me. 
For,  living  in  obscurity, 
To  have  preferment  on  one  thrust 
Makes  his  poor  girdle  almost  "bust." 

These  favors  are  "so  sudden"  sir, 
To  cause  one  rather  to  demur — 
It's  a  perplexing  thing  to  choose 
Which  to  accept  and  which  refuse. 

Regretting  that  my  nom  de  plume 
Has  led  you  falsely  to  assume 
That  1  could  so  myself  forget, 
E'en  wish  to  enter  your  quartette. 
Still  I  feel  bound  to  hold  to  it, 
Just  as  a  plaything  for  your  wit. 

Thanks,  generous  Marsh,  'tis  office  high 

To  place  "Reporters"  in  the  sky, 

The  one  thing  that  I  never  knew 

Is  how  YOU  got  such  work  to  do — 

Vicegerent  of  the  Universe — 

To  designate  in  language  terse, 

A  Deputy  in  heavenly  things 

And  clothe  him  with  angelic  wings, 

Empowering  him  the  Books  to  keep 

That  hold  the  records  full  and  deep 

Of  heaven  above  and  earth  below, 

Of  saint  and  sinner,  friend  and  foe. 

To  be  your  poet,  sir,  the  place 

I  could  not  fill  with  proper  grace, 

Nor  keep  your  books,  nor  even  try, 

Your  "virtues"  all  to  versify: 

For  my  rhyme  though  "Hudibrastic," 

Is  not  quite  enough  bombastic. 


It  grieves  me  sore,  then,  to  refuse 
Such  honor  high  as  you  may  choose 
To  fling,  so  irate,  at  my  head, 
For  which  the  great  alone  are  bred, 
A  Bible  keep  within  your  "den" 
And  see  in  it,  like  rural  men, 
The  store  it  holds  of  knowledge  vast, 
About  the  future  and  the  past. 

Thank  you  once  more,  benignant  Sage  ; 
But  use  your  kindly  patronage 
For  some  good  soul  in  Middletown, 
Who  scarce  has  space  to  turn  him  roun'. 
Leave  me  to  qbam  with  nature  free, 
'Mid  air  and  light  and  poesy. 
And  should  1  need  to  join  a  "set," 
Or  smoke  the  soothing  calumet, 
I'll  find  them  good  enough  for  me 
'Mong  sylvan  glades  in  Amity, 
Where  fens  miasmic  ne'er  are  found; 
But  health  and  happiness  abound. 

Now  having  written  all  I  meant, 
These  lines  may  close  the  incident, 
No  more  to  cause  you  "swear"  or  fuss, 
I  sign  myself, 

Yours, 
Amity,  N.  Y.,  April  6,  1901.  AMICUS. 


MARSH    SUMS    UP. 

MY  three  companions,  now  I  greet  ye, 
And  with  much  love  I  fondly  meet  ye. 

Who  started  this?  "Twas  you,  Mon  Ami, 
None  other  than  my  dear  Vanamee. 

Who  helped  it  on?     'Twas  Rector  Evans  ! 
Responsible  is  he,  by  heavens. 

The  illness  of  our  Father  Betts 
Fills  me  with  many  vain  regrets. 
Had  he  been  well,  "the  fur  would  fly;" 
But  now,  for  him,  we  mourn  and  sigh. 

Thy  feminine  influence,  dear  Miss  Bull, 
Filled  up  our  measure  to  the  full  ; 
There's  nothing  perfect,  sweet,  and  high, 
Till  woman's  finger's  "in  the  pie.'' 

As  for  our  noble  friend,  Doremus, 
Not  to  admire  would  ill  beseem  us. 
He  comes  from  heights  of  chemic  Art, 
And  in  our  sport  he  takes  a  part. 

And  now  to  thee,  our  classic  critic, 
Whose  verse,  severe  and  analytic, 
Deals  sneers  of  a  poetic  nature, 
— (Thou!  with  a  Latin  nomenclature — ) 
Who  with  a  kind  exaggeration, 


Sought  to  traduce  our  fond  relation  ; 
We  stretch  to  thee  a  friendly  hand 
Of  every  member  of  our  band. 

You've  called  on  me — one  of  the  set — 
And  smoked  Red  Jacket's  calumet ; — 
A  relic  which  adorns  my  wall, 
And  stuffed  with  "backer"  when  you  call. 

When  next  you  ask,   "Am-I-(a)-Cuss?" 

I'll  answer,  with  kind  animus, 

"I'd  like  to  fill  ten  omnibusses 

With  just  that  kind  of  pleasant  cusses!" 

So  now,  we  finish  our  farrago, 
That  back  to  rural  haunts  you  may  go, 
Bearing  our  love,  Amicus — Craig  0  ! 
I  trace  you  in  your  home  of  pleasure, 
At  Amity,  in  peace  and  leisure, 
'Mid  peaches,  poems,  and  with  pen 
Ink-Slinging  at  the  loves  of  men. 
Masculine  love,  A.  Craig,  my  friend, 
Makes  men  as  well  as  women  bend. 
God  limits  love  to  no  one  section, 
But  granted  it,  in  all  perfection, 
To  every  people,  and  each  sex, 
Though  it  may  vex  you  and  perplex. 

£>     £? 

Our  little  episode  here  ends:  — 
A  souvenir  to  all  our  friends. 

April  20,  1901. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-17m-8,'55(B3339s4)444 


UtY 
UNIVERSITY  OF 

LOS  ANGJELES 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


«  .,       _  -Hi    ii  ii  i 

AA    001229765    1 

UCLA-Young  Research  Library 

PS3114  .V2556e 
yr 


L  009  613  358  2 


